Gossip Can Be Murder (21 page)

“Charlie, she could be anywhere, couldn’t she?”

“Technically, yes. But I have a feeling about this. She’s somewhere here on the grounds.”

“Then let’s be logical about it. Maybe she’s having a massage.”

I didn’t tell her that I’d already asked Shirley about that; after all, it was possible that Trudie had walked in and they accommodated her. “Okay, I’ll try that. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

She glanced at her watch. “I’ll give it another fifteen minutes. I have some patient calls to return and I really need to have a shower and wash my hair before the evening meditation starts.”

We walked toward the lobby and circled through it, paying attention to its various alcoves and overstuffed leather couches and chairs. No sign of her. The doors to the dining room were closed, and a peek through the glass panes showed it to be empty of customers.

On to the spa, where a lone attendant stood behind the reception desk, flipping through the day’s receipts, tallying something on a calculator.

“Sorry, all the appointments are finished,” she said. “The last client left about ten minutes ago.”

“Was Trudie Blanchard one of them?” I asked.

She looked a little put out, but pulled out her gilt-edged appointment book and opened it to the right page. “No, nothing for her, either scheduled or walk-in. I write those down, too.”

“Could she be in the locker room? We’ll be quick if you can let us look.”

She barely concealed the expression that said ‘it’s Friday night and I have a date’ and waved us through.

Linda and I took opposite sides of the corridor. She walked into the glassed-in hot tub room, scanning the water’s surface and pushing aside the fronds of potted plants, while I took the locker rooms. At the Men’s door, I tapped and called out loudly. The place echoed back hollowly. In the Ladies locker room an attendant stood by her station, folding towels.

“Is anyone still here?” I asked.

“No, Señora, all gone.”

For extra measure, I called out Trudie’s name but this room, too, echoed back at me.

Back in the corridor, Linda reported that the mud bath and hot tub areas were empty. “I better head to the room and get ready,” she said.

“Okay, I’ll be along in a minute. I’m going to take the back way and walk around the building once.”

“Be careful. Walking around by yourself got you into trouble before,” she warned. She turned back the way we’d come.

I remembered seeing an emergency exit at the far end of the corridor, beyond the ladies locker room, so I went that way. What was I going to do if I found Trudie, anyway? If she’d been the one who attacked me earlier, she’d no doubt try it again.

Foolishly, I’d left my purse, with the Beretta in it, in our room. I’m in pretty good shape, but against someone with the strength of insanity on her side . . .. I looked around for a weapon but found only a stack of clean towels. I grabbed one, nearly laughing at the absurdity of it. What was I going to do—snap her with it or blindfold her?

Nevertheless, I took opposite corners of the towel and spun the piece of cloth into a strong whip. The attendant from the locker room came out, her Casa de Tranquilidad smock gone now, her purse over her arm. She gave me a curious stare but didn’t say anything as she walked out.

The place suddenly felt very quiet and I felt very alone. Just get this over with, Charlie. I headed toward the end of the hall where I’d seen the other exit. Then the lights went out.

The hairs on my neck bristled. I stopped, blind.

Chapter 27

Minutes ticked by in what must have actually been about ten seconds. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again. No emergency lighting but faintly, ahead, I could see the glowing green letters of a lighted Exit sign.

I faced it squarely and edged forward. I could only hope that no one had remembered to lock the door, or I’d have to traverse the whole corridor again to find my way back. I visualized the hall. Aside from the recessed countertop where I’d found my towel weapon, it was long and straight without obstacles. Light switches—I couldn’t remember. But that’s hardly the thing one notices right away. They had to exist. Dropping one end of the towel, I edged to my right and felt for the wall. It wasn’t that far, probably twenty feet, and the tiny green letters actually sent a small glow to guide me. I could do this.

I hummed a little non-tune to keep myself company but quit when it echoed eerily off the tile walls. Brushing my fingertips lightly along the wall I moved forward, covering a foot at a time. I encountered a doorframe—something I didn’t remember—and my fingers followed the recess across the door itself. I’d just touched the outcrop of the molding on the other side when a loud thump rattled the door.

I jumped back from it, a scream forming in my throat and coming out as a squeak.

Every logical thought told me to run, but I envisioned myself bouncing off the walls like the metal ball in a pinball machine, unable to get to my destination. I skittered frantically away from the door.

Another loud bump, then two, three, four.

“Who’s in there?” I shouted. My voice careened off the tile.

I edged away and felt the opposite wall against my back. The echo of my words died away, leaving my raspy breath as the only sound. I forced myself to calm down, to breathe through my nose.

As my own noises died away I caught a faint voice. “Help me,” it called.

Oh god, what was going on here?

Two more bumps and again, “Help!”

Not in the dark, I swore. If this is a trap, I want to at least see it before I walk into it. I extended both hands, feeling the wall behind me, edging always closer to the exit sign. At last, I encountered a double switch.

I rammed both switches upward. And blinded myself.

My eyes slammed shut against the cruel glare of fluorescent light on white tile. I cupped both hands over my face for additional protection.

Gradually, through slotted fingers I eased my eyes open and scanned the corridor. Empty, as before. Across from me, the door I’d touched was labeled with a small sign that said Employees Only. Another bump came from it, this one seemingly fainter than before.

Again, the voice, muffled. “Help me.” It sounded feeble and not nearly so frightening anymore.

I lowered my hands and walked toward it. My towel-weapon lay nearby. I must have flung it away in my panic. I tiptoed to the door and listened.

“Who’s in there?” By keeping my voice low, the horrible echo was minimal.

The answer came as a scraping noise on the floor. I tried the doorknob. Locked. Now what?

“Wait,” I said. As if this person had any choice. “I’ll be right back.”

I rushed back to the reception area, flipping on more lights along the way. The desk consisted of a long granite top with two shallow drawers under it and banks of deeper drawers in columns on either side of the swivel chair. I yanked open the two shallow drawers first and was rewarded with the sight of a small compartmented tray that contained a ring of keys and a few loose ones. I grabbed them all.

As an extra measure, I also took a box cutter with a lethal looking razor blade concealed in a heavy metal handle.

Feeling considerably braver now, I approached the unknown door again.

“I’m back,” I said. “I’m going to see if any of these keys work, so just be patient.”

The answer came as a small scraping sound.

I glanced through the loose keys first, discarding them when they all appeared to be the small type used for filing cabinets. The keyring gave more choices, with several that could work on doors. I tried two before I came to the one that worked. I operated it with my left hand, pulling the box cutter out of my pocket with the right.

A prone figure lay face-down on the floor of the small supply closet, wrists and ankles bound with rope, hair matted over the face, clothing covered with dust. I retracted the blade on my weapon and stuck it back into my pocket.

“It’s okay now,” I murmured. “I’ll get you out of here.”

I knelt beside the dirt-covered form and rolled it toward me.

It was Trudie.

Chapter 28

Her eyes squinted tightly against the light and she groaned when I touched her.

“What happened, Trudie?” I asked. “Who put you here?”

Her mouth worked for a moment, then went slack. I felt her neck and found a fluttery pulse at her carotid artery. I tried to roll her onto her back but the closet was too tight. I’d have to get her out of here. I backed out of the tiny room and grabbed the rope at her ankles. She probably outweighed me by twenty pounds and the dead weight didn’t make the job any easier.

Inch by inch, with a grip on her ankles, I dragged her out of the confinement of the closet. She wore an old, ratty running suit and sneakers so once I got the bulk of her body past the concrete floor in the closet and onto the smooth tile in the corridor she slid along much more easily. I rolled my former towel-weapon to form a pillow and cushioned her head with it, then I took the box cutter and cut away the ropes from her wrists and ankles.

Her breathing seemed shallow but steady. I grabbed another towel from the alcove and dampened it with cold water from the locker room. As I dabbed the cold towel on her forehead and temples, she stirred slightly and began to murmur. She didn’t look like quite such a formidable enemy now.

“Trudie, it’s Charlie. You’re okay.”

Mumbled words that didn’t make any sense.

“Trudie, stay right here. I’m going to get help.”

The nearest phone was at the reception desk. I’d left my cell in the room. I left Trudie on the floor with the cold towel on her forehead and rushed to the desk. What to do? I remembered the smelling salts Linda had used to bring me around. I’d try calling her first. With any luck maybe she hadn’t already left for the meditation session.

She answered on the first ring. “Hey, where are you?” she asked.

“I never made it out of the spa. I found Trudie. She needs medical attention. Can you come or should I call an ambulance?” I gave her a quick description of Trudie’s condition.

“I’ll come. Give me three minutes. I just stepped out of the shower.”

“You’re a doll. I’ll wait with her in the corridor outside the locker rooms.”

I unlocked the main door and returned to the hallway. Trudie was lying where I’d left her, thrashing restlessly as if in a bad dream. I knelt beside her.

“Trudie, Trudie, calm down. Help is coming.”

I stroked her arm and repositioned the wet towel, which had slipped.

She murmured something I couldn’t understand.

“What, Trudie? What happened?”

More restless movement.

“Who did this?” I slapped lightly at the back of her hand. “Who were you meeting in the parking lot? Who left you that note?”

At the mention of the note and the parking lot, she mumbled louder. It was like she was still far away but had somehow come a little closer to me. I pressed the advantage.

“Trudie, come on, tell me who you went to see.”

A mumbled word came out.

“Say it again, Trudie. I didn’t hear you.”

“Dav—David.” More mumbled words came, something I took to mean “I went to meet David.” 

Puzzling. I thought he was at Drake’s deposition. I repeated his name and she nodded ever so slightly.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “We’ve got help coming.” I could hear sounds in the reception area now. “Back here, Linda,” I called out.

A commotion sounded behind me and I looked over my shoulder to see Linda, wearing hastily donned sweats and a T-shirt and carrying her medical bag. Shirley bustled along behind her, dressed for the evening’s social gathering in a gauzy purple skirt and beaded purple top. She’d fluffed her curly brown hair and even added a touch of lipstick.

Without a word, Linda knelt beside Trudie. She felt for a pulse and ran her hands along the sides of Trudie’s face and neck, much as she’d done for me. Trudie’s eyes began to flutter open. I stood up and backed out of the way.

“Can you hear me?” Linda asked. “Do you feel pain anywhere?” Her expert hands continued to examine, checking her patient’s arms and legs as she spoke.

“No, I . . .” Trudie croaked. “Water—”

“In a minute,” Linda said. She turned to me. “I don’t think anything’s broken.”

“I’ll get it,” Shirley offered. She headed toward the reception area and returned a minute later with a small paper cup.

By this time Trudie had managed to sit up and she took the water gratefully. Her hands and face looked grimy with dirt from the closet floor and her hair stuck out in wild gray tangles. She appeared shaken and groggy—drugged?

Shirley found a wicker chair with a soft flowered cushion in the hot tub area and brought it into the hall. Linda and I took Trudie by the upper arms and helped her rise and get to it. She flopped onto the seat. I motioned Linda aside.

“What now?” I whispered. “Should we get an ambulance?”

“All they would do is take her to the hospital where she’d be admitted overnight for observation. I can do the same thing here, if she’ll let me,” she said. “Let’s give her a few minutes to compose herself and I’ll ask her.”

I sneaked a look at my watch. Six-fifteen. No wonder Shirley seemed restless; Dr. Light would be well into his meditation session by now and here were three of their attendees, sidetracked. They’d made such a big deal of the special evening, I knew the size of the crowd would be important to them.

Linda knelt beside Trudie, talking quietly to her. The patient looked better, a bit of color had come into her face now, although she still wasn’t talking much. In Trudie’s case that could be somewhat worrisome.

“Shirley, could you arrange for some soup to be sent to Trudie’s room in about thirty minutes?” Linda asked. She looked to her patient for confirmation and got a small nod. “I’m going to sit with her for awhile and get her settled in for the night.”

“I’m due back in Albuquerque tonight,” I said, knowing this delay would set me back. “I’ll help you get everything arranged before I head out.”

Shirley didn’t look terribly happy about the loss of three participants, but she didn’t have much choice in the matter. She bustled away to handle her part of it.